Still Frame
by The Gray Maze
Summary: Reflections, speculations, and character sketches of anyone from minor to major screen time.
1. Felled

**Title:** Felled  
**Character(s):** Meru, Lenus  
**Summary: **Meru gets a front seat view to an unhealthy form of love. Obsession.

_So, what is love anyway?_

She'd asked the question so many times, of so many people, and not one of them had given her a recurrent reply that could satisfy her entirely. It was always _it's wonderful_, or _it's fulfilling_ or anything along those lines, really. Those answers in no shape or form matched what she was seeing. Words like _wonderful_ or _fulfilling_ did not fit the situation; it was more along the lines of _obsession_ and _devotion,_ if anything.

Lenus was a strong, clever woman who had been driven by love. Driven to _death_ by love, as a matter of fact.

Her body was failing quickly and her blood was crawling swiftly down her pale, shining skin. The wounds she had received during the battle were heavy and fatal, and yet she still mustered enough energy to throw her weapons in one final attack. She was dying fast, and her last words—words that everyone seemed to value so much—were solely dedicated to a man who had left her for dead.

Meru watched her fall to the ground, unable to move as those fading eyes froze her in place. There was emotion there, raw passion, even in her final moments. Vibrant silver hair pooled around her head, mixing with the water and the blood that dyed that pink.

_A girl in love doesn't know the meaning of 'give up'!_

The once steady rhythm of her chest rising and falling slowed, tiredly heaving her closing breaths, and she couldn't take her eyes away. Standing there in silence, muted with uncertainty—what was she supposed to think_ now?_ That this was what became of those who fell in love?

She didn't dare glance at Shana, who had thrown herself to Dart just as Lenus had thrown her blades, nor at Albert, who she knew had left a lovely princess back in Fletz. Not when Lenus was on the ground, unseeing and unmoving, body cold and limp, when Lloyd was running off to another country, knowingly leaving this woman to die for him. Die for his unreciprocated love.

_So, what is love anyway?_

**A/N: First fic in LoD section, obviously centered on Lenus's death. I got to wondering about Meru's reaction to her dying, since she looked upset. Was it from seeing a fellow winglie die? I was gonna do something around **_**that**_** but then remembered how Meru always seemed so inquisitive about people's love lives and about how Lenus was so infatuated with Lloyd… and this came out.**

**I hope it was alright regardless. I'm actually feeling nervous about posting this.**

**Ciao!**


	2. Gaspless

**Title: **Gaspless  
**Character(s):** Rose, Lavitz  
**Summary:** Perhaps she was a little more affected then she let on.

For a survivor, and in particular one who had seen ten thousand years before her eyes, time tended to blur from one instant to the next. A second would become a decade, and from there centuries would stretch into millennia until those little measurements of single days no longer mattered. Time was fast, it went by, and when it did she would move on. Though, she sometimes caught herself eying the ordinary people with something akin to envy, living by the day rather than the century. Wistfully, she'd wish that she could have those slow moving minutes back until she'd snap herself out of her stupor and continue with her duties.

But as the blinding light of the rising sun burned red, she looked back on all those melancholy occasions and suddenly wanted to take them all back. To empty her head of such foolish little fantasies of regaining a typical sense of time. Who could possibly, _honestly_ want to feel the seconds dragging by like this? Was this normal even? For the life of her she could not recall—even as she raked her ten thousand years of memories for a clue—that time ever hauled itself forward so slowly.

Was she even able to move? Oh _god_ why couldn't she _move_?

The hot air that seemed permanently a part of Hellena Prison was suffocating, an oppressive cocoon that kept her rooted to the spot and for a woman who favored speed, the sensation was far from endearing. She watched with her dark eyes wide and glittering with open astonishment as the gray folds of the hooded man's cloak fluttered around the arm that held a weapon she hadn't seen in quite some time. Her mind registered the Dragon Buster—a blade that was as intriguing as it was deadly, with its large hilt and the sleek long blade that captured the essence of a flame like only a Wingly item could—and then she saw Lavitz.

Mid-air, dragoon form, nowhere to turn and too angry to have the sense to try…

She felt her lips move, but no sound escaped. She saw the arm move, bringing the sword up for an attack, but was unable to move. The _clang_ of the blade meeting—and easily parting—the Jade Dragoon's armored torso was deafening. Shana's shriek, Dart's yell, and the king's gasp barely registered after such a hollow, final sound. Lavitz choked and spluttered, surrounded and quickly abandoned by an eerie green light that vanished his wings and sent him crashing to the ground.

_Falling and falling and falling forever just like __**him**__, just like __**Syuveil**__ did oh so many years ago._

A crushing weight settled in her chest at the sight of the blood of another dragoon, a teammate, and she felt like she failed again. It was enough to render her breathless.


	3. Sleeping Beauty

**Title: **Sleeping Beauty  
**Character(s): **Lenus, Emille, Albert  
**Summary:** A painting of Princess Emille…

The painting at the entrance of the elder princess's chambers was a new addition to the room, and while not uncommon for one of royal blood to have her image preserved in a portrait, its intention was not narcissism. Truly however, the canvas was beauteous, extraordinarily _lifelike_ even. Every delicate curve of the princess's face, every glitter in her vibrant eyes, and even every strand of hair streaming from her lovely head was present.

As if the very woman herself was sitting within those frames. Trapped.

And her double, delighted, threw her identical head back and laughed—a sound that was just a little deeper and a little rougher than the voice of the fair princess. This was an imperfect copy, a crude doppelganger, and yet few dared to ascribe her degenerate personality to the notion that _this wasn't real_.

And her fake found it enormously uproarious.

**~:~**

Sleeping beauty slept upright this time, gracefully poised in a royal chair. It was high-backed and glimmering gold in the mysterious light that magic made. She dozed without a sound. Neither snore nor murmur disturbed the room which, aside from the hum of the dimensional enchantment, was otherwise quiet. Her fair, dainty hands were folded neatly in her lap, draped with the folds of her favorite dress. Her hair, bright as the namesake of her tower, fell in elegant locks over her slender shoulders.

She looked deep in thought, but the truth was opposite. She thought nothing. Time had since paused for her within the modest chamber she was enclosed in. It sat as she did, waiting for the one to come and stir the princess to wakefulness, just the way Prince Charmings were wont to do.

Though it wasn't exactly a kiss that woke her.


	4. Dragons

**Title:** Dragons  
**Character(s):** Drake, Shirley  
**Summary:** He needed somewhere to go. The temple was as good a place as any.

'_What is it with these woods?'_ he wondered, _'It's all the same! Endless!'_

Leaves in varying shades of green whipped past his swarthy face, stinging cheeks that glistened with the sweat born of humidity and an unceasing flight. Guards were hot in pursuit; he could hear them, their armor clamoring in that recognizable tinny racket as they maneuvered through the trees. He leapt over another jutting root and continued his sprint, panting heavily, but not yet exhausted. He laughed breathlessly as he heard the curses behind him. _Someone_ must have tripped.

The all too familiar feel of adrenaline raced with him, as it always did—a bandit's best friend during a run, but a target for creative vulgarity at the moment of abandonment. A love-hate type of relationship and at the moment he loved it. He laughed in wild glee as the encompassing surge of energy propelled him over stones and roots. The towering trees and overgrown bushes blurred past him in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

The thundering footfalls of the white-clad guards were resounding more loudly than before…

Coming across an unfamiliar path leading upwards, he decided to give it a chance. It was a close call this time, and any means of escape would be a welcome visage. They, the guards, might even abandon the chase upon this new route. It certainly looked deserted enough. Still, it was greener, and he was starting to get tired of all that green. Shoving his new distaste for the color aside, he veered to the left and headed up this new place.

Words couldn't describe how relieved he was to see the green thinning out. It was a bothersome color after all. He wanted to stop and take a breather, just enjoying the brown and auburn of the newly unveiled dirt and those pales shades of gray in the stones. How long was it since he'd been able to abandon the woods? Weeks upon weeks of hiding out in trees and covering himself in leaves had finally taken its toll on him, and he decided that this new stony sight was a good enough place to rest.

He couldn't hear the guards anymore.

'_Heh, guess that path was a good deterrent after all.'_

His heart was racing a mile a minute and his breath was coming out in short gasps. While grateful for the new array of colors to rest his eyes on, he couldn't exactly deny that it was _hot_. The raggedy violet hat on his head came off, and he wiped his sweating face on his equally sticky arm. A breeze blew, and the feeling of that air—hot and dry as it was—playing with his tresses was the most heavenly thing he'd felt in a long time. He breathed it in as he paced, stretching his limbs and trying to get his aching body to relax after such a long run.

'_That'll be the last time I hit Fletz for awhile…'_ he thought, patting a pocket; it jingled under his fingers.

Having regained his bearings, he began walking in no direction in particular, as long as it wasn't back towards that damnable green.

**~:~**

By the time he'd walked a mile and a half up and down the rocky slopes, he was drenched in sweat and out of breath. His legs were aching, his bare shoulders burning, and his dripping black hair kept slapping him in the face. He would have removed his hat, but he knew that he'd only wind up baking his head and making his situation worse.

He grunted in disconcertment as he lost his balance again atop some weak rocks that slid under his foot and tumbled ominously down a particularly steep drop. Bracing himself on some jutting pieces of the cliff, he gingerly lowered himself onto a ledge wide enough to support him. He sighed and swiped a torrent of sweat from his brow before rubbing his eyes. He had misgivings about stopping in such a dreadfully hot area, but his legs would not be cajoled from their stubborn numbness, and eventually exhaustion won out. He fell asleep, and the darkness was wonderful.

**~:~**

'_Owls… I hear owls…'_ blearily his pried his eyes open and looked around him.

Night had snuck up on him, it seemed. Groaning, he stretched and winced until he was satisfied that every joint had been liberally popped and cracked. He had fallen asleep sitting up and his was stiff as a board, but he managed to stumble to his feet and grope around for a strong hold. It was, thankfully, much cooler, and he had dried off in the duration of his nap. His contraband was still securely pocketed, and he considered this a good sign.

His parched throat, on the other hand, was not.

But he lowered himself down the slope nonetheless. It wasn't as dark as he'd been expecting. In this place the stars gleamed unnaturally bright and the moon was full. It took some time, but he reached the bottom and began moving again, desperately trying to ignore the sandy dryness of his mouth and his dead, swollen tongue.

**~:~**

He laughed, roughly and hoarsely, when he heard that familiar sound, and considered it a miracle. The soft gurgle was music to his ears, and the sound of it gave him, despite his dehydration, the power to run again. He stumbled and tripped all the awhile, until he found the edge of that body of water that he had heard. Without a thought to his surroundings, he dove right in.

It was _cold_! Blissfully and beautifully cold, and he drank deeply and fully until his stomach was heavy and his mouth was saturated. Then he laughed again, and this time the sound was rich and deep, the way it should be. He swam for awhile, until he noticed just where he was.

The thing was… he didn't exactly _know_ where he was. He drifted along in the water for a moment more, staring at the pale bricks that seemed to glow a white-silver in the moonlight. There were stairs leading into the water, odd, but he climbed them anyway. Then, with water pouring off of him in streams, he walked towards the wide pergola. Somehow, despite its deserted, skeletal appearance, it didn't feel all that ominous. He walked through it, marveling at the crumbled pillars, until he came to the archway at the end. He stopped and looked up, on a whim, and gazed at the emblem of a dragon carved above the door.

A smile graced his face at the sight of it. "Now that's a welcome." He whispered wryly.

He stepped through.

This place was like another realm entirely, an oasis in a rocky desert of hot air and stooping cliff faces. He felt privileged to walk within it, admiring the architecture and the sprawling stairways that led up and down to everywhere. He took his time going through it, noting the dragons carved here and there, and eventually he came to the widest set of stairs yet. Statues identical to some other pair he had seen earlier stood guard on either side of it. He ascended to the circular space above and looked around, breathing sharply at he looked over the edge.

The view was grandiose, unspeakably so. Lush trees, glistening water, and the ruins of the white building stretched out before him. The tiresome trek was worth this…

"It is equally beautiful at all hours, I believe…" a soft, feminine voice spoke from behind him.

Still entranced, he didn't think as he responded. "I don't doubt it."

He then realized his folly, and spun around quickly to meet the person who had joined him. His eyes widened at the sight of her, for she looked every bit as ethereal as her backdrop, floating there in the air. The long, thick tail of her blue cloak swayed gently in some imaginary breeze, along with her hair, which was the liveliest shade of red he'd ever seen. Calm brown eyes surveyed him with open curiosity.

"It has… been many years since anyone has visited this shrine." She murmured, not looking away.

He didn't know how to respond to that really, so he just settled for an introduction. "Name's Drake," he said, "just wandering."

A smile softened her face. "Shirley," she replied. "Please, stay awhile."

**~:~**

Drake was perched on a rock the next morning with his pouch in hand. He turned it over and listened with satisfaction as the glittering gold coins tumbled out. Callous fingers nimbly and expertly counted them. Sixty coins total—a respectable amount. He placed them back in their bag, mentally going over what he could buy with them. A few Fogs perhaps…

'_Doesn't matter,'_ he thought. _'If I go to Lohan I can snatch a few coins here and there from the traders…'_ he trailed off, eyes flickering over to the dais below him.

He frowned, confusion twisting his shaded face, and wondered why he was feeling the stirrings of apprehension. The frown deepened, and his dark eyes turned thoughtful. Shirley? She was absent for the time being, he knew, as she had said just before dawn that the day was typically her resting time. He idly considered what she'd think if he told her the real reason he had showed up… Drake shook his head, hat flopping. What would a ghost care if he was a bandit? He snorted and leapt down, landing in a crouch. Shirley was a kind woman, but he wasn't going to let meeting her affect his ways.

With a brief glance back, he left.

**~:~**

Drake reached the shrine with less trouble than he had before, having been prepared for the trek this time around. He stopped at the stairs that led into the water and refilled his flask, a nice new thing that he had obtained from Lohan. It had been as crowded and loud as it always was, but he had managed to hit a few shops before he left. Durable brown gloves and boots adorned his hands and feet and his clothes were devoid of tears and loose stitches. The violet hat perched on his head was still a rag, but he loved it too much to find a replacement.

He sighed and removed it, tying it to his belt with the full flask. He looked towards the archway and made for it, wondering if he'd be welcome this time.

"I see you've returned."

Drake looked up in surprise, seeing Shirley floating there with a calm smile on her face. There was a knowing look in her eye upon observing his clothing and heavy pockets. He shrugged and straightened his shoulders, looking at her in something akin to genuine apology.

"I had to take care of some things." He told her.

She tilted her head. "Banditry?" she asked. "Or am I mistaken?"

He almost stiffened, but reminded himself that it didn't matter if a ghost knew. "Drake the Bandit," he confirmed. "How'd you guess it?"

"It took no guesswork." She said airily. "Not when petty thieves come here monthly, seeking the treasures left behind." She sighed there. "They may have mentioned it before they were overcome by the monsters that occasionally roam here."

Treasure? Petty thieves? He had never once heard of this shrine before he stumbled upon it… how was it that lesser bandits than he would come here constantly in search of this treasure? Shirley saw his confusion and looked to be relieved by it. Drake was bewildered by this for a moment, before realizing that she was probably glad he wasn't here to disturb her possessions.

He entertained the thought of the treasure, trying to tempt himself, but the weight of his pockets distracted him. He didn't need anymore. He didn't _need_ it. Drake patted his pockets to let Shirley hear the generous jingle of his stolen goods, to let her know that he had no need for her gold… or whatever the treasure was. He had his own.

**~:~**

He was there the next time a thief came ambling through her corridors, a week after their discussion. He saw the greasy little man in dark clothes, sneaking here and there and up stairways. Drake followed him under the cover of the large green trees. He was right behind the man before long, watching him bent greedily over a tiny, hidden chest under some rocks.

"Easy," he muttered. "This is easy…" his hands found the coins inside the box and he laughed, hysterical.

For some reason indignant, Drake drew his knife and placed it at the hollow of the man's neck. "Drop it."

He jerked, the thief, and pulled his own weapon out. "NO! It's mine, I came here, and I found it!"

His pale eyes were crazed and his face was burnt. Drake realized with a start that the trip over the mountains must have given the man a rough time. He wasn't exactly all there. Drake stepped back to avoid being stabbed and, in a split-second's decision, reversed his blade to drive the hilt of the knife into the man's gut. He spluttered and coughed, and Drake bodily dragged him away from the shrine.

'_The heat'll kill him.'_ Drake thought. _'I would have… but I refuse to let…'_ he paused for a moment, and an unbidden thought entered his mind. _'No blood should be split here unnecessarily.'_

What?

He climbed back up the stairs and neatly placed all the coins back in the chest. His mind was numbly blank as he did this, and his thoughts all seemed to rush back at him after he'd closed the lid on the box. He stared at it, mind whirling at how unguarded and vulnerable the treasure seemed to be. Shirley could hardly protect it, being transparent. It seemed a little unfair…

But he was a bandit! What did he care for fairness?

And yet his eyes never left the chest.

**~:~**

Drake was lounging on the dais, stargazing, when Shirley appeared. He didn't look towards her as she approached him, looking at him in some wonderment. He was gnawing on a fish bone, thinking. She let him, remaining silent while he gathered his thoughts. Drake felt a stab of appreciation for it, which startled him to a degree, and then he settled down, wondering why. His life had recently taken a more interesting turn and these new things were commonplace now.

He sighed and picked out some constellations he'd learned from his brief stint at Fletz.

For some obscure reason, he was already attached to the shrine. A week and a day spent at it had given him a level of fondness for the place that was on par with that which he held for his hat. He felt no inclination to leave, other than perhaps needing new supplies every now and then. Of course, the feeling would probably wear off eventually…

'_Get over it Drake.'_ He thought to himself tiredly. _'You know it won't…'_

"Drake?" Shirley prompted.

He glanced her way and, feeling unfamiliar warmth in his chest, told her, "I'll stay awhile."


	5. Solitude

**Title:** Solitude  
**Character(s):** Damia  
**Summary:** A girl in a tower… all alone.  
**A/N: **Damia stuck me as the type that would have spent the years in a state rambling depression for some reason... anyway... back to my average word count for now.

She remembers, with painful clarity, how the towers standing beside hers used to be tall and majestic. They used to be whole, and she had thought that they'd last forever. Well, they lasted a long time at least… a whole ten thousand years. Ten thousand long, lonely years… and when she thinks of this she curls in on herself, hugs her knees to her chest, and fights the heavy weight of tears behind her eyes just the way she used to fight the virage alongside of her companions.

But they aren't _here_ anymore.

Zieg… Rose… Shirley… Belzac… Syuveil… Kanzas…

Where did they go? She looks around sometimes when she's lucid and hopes that they will come and visit her. Even Kanzas, though he always called her weak and was terribly frightening. She knows though, she knows that they've all gone and left her by herself, and she wants to see everyone again but she's awfully afraid of death because she doesn't know what was beyond the realm of the living, and who was to say that death wasn't even more lonely than this tower?

Some people said that it was better to stick to what you know.

She agreed… though she sees the past and wishes that she could summon her wings and fly herself back to it just so she doesn't have to be lonely anymore, because loneliness shrouds her like a cloak and sometimes the power of it was too much for her to bear. These days she lies atop the dais in the center of her tower, and she pretends with all her might that it is the way it used to be. It isn't crumbled, it isn't dry, it isn't cracked and falling apart. She cries, and she imagines that her tears fill the room with water and her solitude blossoms into something more beautiful.

Years and years and decades and centuries and millennia worth of tears should be enough… right?


	6. Dirge of the Moon

**Title: **Dirge of the Moon**  
Character(s):** Mentions of the Black Monster and Moon Child  
**Summary:** A lament for those slaughtered on the night that the Moon That Never Sets glares red.  
**A/N:** I felt like rhyming and (terrible at this-) singing. I also felt like doing a Halloween Special, so what better than the Black Monster? Nothing. Seriously, try singing this with that creepy super-high soprano voice in the church music tone. I had a lot of fun.

All ye lend an ear if you live,  
for the dead have none to give.

All ye look to the Moon,  
and pray for those who left too soon.

Oh see how the dead sleep,  
oh see how the living weep,

Oh hear the silence of the end,  
oh where is the Child the Moon was meant to send?

Angel of Heaven who promised to heal  
our struggles and hardships—are you real?

Where have you been all these ominous years  
when we have lived gravely, abiding by fear?

A Monster descended, black as the night.  
He wreathed all our houses in a fiery light.

He took all our loved ones, our hopes, and our dreams.  
He stole them away in a bloody regime.

Oh Moonlit Angel… come to us please.  
Oh Heavenly Child… cure our disease.

Count all the years—one hundred and eight—  
and the last marks the night of a terrible fate.

On the last eve the Moon glares red  
as fervid as the blood of the dead.


	7. Hindsight

**Title:** Hindsight  
**Character(s):** Rose, Dart, Albert, Shana, Lavitz  
**Summary:** Rose reflects on Lavitz's death after the events at Hellena Prison.

The grimy stone wall of the basement was uncomfortable against her back. She didn't move. Her feet inside her mismatched boots were slick and slimy with sweat. She didn't grimace. For all outward appearances, she was a statue—a hard faced, navy bedecked statue with oddly fashioned armor and a wicked rapier at the hip. She was Rose. Rose was stoic. Rose had few facial expressions beyond 'frown' and 'glare.'

As such, her position was not noted as out of the ordinary, and the rest of her companions continued their silent pondering below. It left her to her thoughts, loud and obtrusive little things like memories and conversations.

"_So, do you want to—"_

"_No."_

"_How abo—"_

"_No."_

"…_are you always such a stick in the mud?"_

"…"

She almost shook her head, almost, and she managed to slow her exhale enough that her sigh went unnoticed. Her head tilted back with a quiet rustle of black hair and her eyes drifted shut a moment. Sharp ears picked up the shuffling of leather, the scuffing of boots on a dusty floor, and the discordant clangor of shifting armor. Dart was repositioning himself, awkwardly, and Rose opened an eye to observe his discomfort. The king was still hunched over, unkempt hair frizzing away from him in a wholly undignified manner, and his face was pressed hard into hands propped up on his shaking thighs. The Red-Eyed Dragoon was at a loss for words, same as Shana. Rose herself simply had nothing to say to them. The silence was palpable, outside of her head.

"_Hey Dart. Here is the plan. Why don't you go around the arena just with Shana? Then, I can go out with Rose."_

"_What? Why do I have to go with you?"_

"_Just pretending. Really."_

She tried closing her eyes, briefly, before remembering that the darkness behind her eyelids would only encourage the images, and reopened them. She tried not to think of pain, consciously. It had become her unwavering companion for ten thousand years, and the worst of it had faded into a faint twinge in the very back of her heart. It tried to erupt now, employing Lavitz's demise as a catalyst. Rose forced it to recede. She—_they_ didn't have time at the present. Ears, tuned from millennia of experience, fed her the conversation that was taking place below. Straightening, she entered it.

"He was out of luck. I didn't know he had the Dragon Buster. If I had known it, I would have stopped Lavitz."

She would have _tried_ but, remembering the righteous fury that had twisted his face into a snarling, determined visage, she wondered whether she would have actually succeeded. He was a knight whose king was captured, on the verge of being executed by a gluttonous beast of a man that he himself had only just recently escaped. He was a knight who had felt responsible for the state of his king; regarding his absence from the castle as a failure to protect and serve.

In light of that, _could_ she have saved him?

Looking back, the answer to that was… no.

She couldn't have. There was nothing she could have done. He was a stubborn man, more obstinate than a tired mule faced with a tedious trail, and she couldn't have stopped him, no matter how much she wished she could have.

But to say that in front of these people, her comrades, was inappropriate. She knew that… from the way that Shana had thrown herself on her shoulder at the moment of impact, unable to watch. From Dart's desperate pleading as he grasped Lavitz's hand. From the king's quiet thanks as he received the jade dragoon stone…

They all looked at her now, in varying degrees of obviousness in their observations. She stared back, inky eyes carefully going over their postures, their expressions, and the looks in their eyes and knew then that it really was an unnecessary thing to say.

They all already knew.


	8. Waiting

**Title: **Waiting**  
Character(s):** Guaraha, Meru  
**Summary:** Guaraha watches the gate, waiting.  
**A/N:** Can't say I'm sure how it turned out all together in the mind of another, as this was done little by little over the course of maybe a year, and mostly while I was half asleep. But people tell me I write better when I'm half asleep, so... whatever the case may be... here it is.

He recalls, with astounding clarity, the exact moment that he met her. He was seven, and she was four, with a long shock of blue-platinum hair and a smile that seemed to light up the otherwise dismal forest. Her eyes, oddly, were pink rather than the vibrant scarlet of most winglies. He remembers thinking something about blood and water, and that he had stared at her strangely for a few moments.

She perked up and said, "Whatcha doin'?"

And, intrigued, he entertained her for the day. Then the next and the next and…

**-:-:-**

She was peeking at the gate with a thoughtful frown on her face, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Thick, gray-green leaves hung heavily from winding branches in front of her, obscuring her from the view of the watcher. She must have been standing there for hours, unseen, and mindful of this he approached her quietly in an attempt to not break her cover.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

She spun around wildly, snapping piles of twigs and grinding pebbles against each other discordantly as she lost her balance and tumbled backwards.. "Guaraha!" she yelped, loudly.

He sighed and tugged her back to town just as the guard began shouting at them.

**-:-:-**

"I want to be a dancer!" she announced one day.

They were sitting by the water, watching little fish dart to and fro. It was the end of the day, but the forest was only slightly darker for it. He looked at her when she spoke and, seeing how determined and relatively _serious_ she looked, he couldn't help but laugh. She looked mildly affronted, ready to stand up and tower over him and demand to know what he found so amusing.

He told her to just stay sitting so she didn't fall in the pond.

She pouted.

Then slipped.

In the end he fished her out (a task made difficult by her flailing arms and kicking legs) and dragged her home, sopping wet and irritated. The lecture he received from her mother for allowing her to fall rang in his ears for hours afterward. And he had to mop their floor.

He wouldn't let her near the water again for some time after that.

**-:-:-**

She was sitting atop some rocks, frowning thoughtfully at the gates below. The watcher was there, slacking off like usual. Paying attention only when someone made some obvious movement. The expression on her pretty face was so intense that it gave him pause, and he stood there hesitantly behind a tree, just watching her.

Eventually she turned to him and said, "I really wonder what the rest of the world is like."

He shook his head at her. "We're not allowed out of the forest and you know it."

"Why not!?" she burst, "It's not fair! There's a whole world out there…" she trailed off and looked towards the gate again, whimsical.

He scolded her slightly for her words, and regretted it later, when he found her room emptied of her most precious belongings and her mother listless at the kitchen table. They said she was gone. He went to the gate.

She wasn't there.

No good-bye and no warning other than a sudden outburst that quickly died.

He went to the gate again later.

She hadn't come back yet.

And again he went the next day.

And she wasn't there.

He signed up for guard duty, and the one before him was happy to relinquish the position. He watched more avidly than any of the previous guards, so they let him be, though they knew—

He was only waiting for Meru.


	9. Grasp

**Title:** Grasp  
**Character(s):** Rose, Dart  
**Summary:** She'd fall with him this time if she had to, but she wouldn't let go. Not again.

She felt her arm go ice cold from strain. In contrast, Dart's was still warm, though it might have been that his glove was the source. His arm had to be equally taxed, as he dangled precariously over the roaring ocean. The wind howled, echoing the desperation within her that only barely showed on her tight and worried face. Dart was gasping, and even through the thick leather she could tell his arm was starting to shake. Or was it hers?

"Rose! Let go!" His shout was mostly drowned by the waves that crashed and tugged the debris below. "You gotta live!"

Let go? Live? She had yet to relearn how to do either. This was not the time for letting go. And he had more reason to live than she, who had wandered for many years beyond what she should have. She searched his face and tried again to pull him up. His eyes were resigned already, a familiar color reflecting her own pale face. A strong sense of familiarity struck her. _This was just like that time!_ That time when Zieg...

Fear made her colder than the wind could ever hope to. It was a feeling that she thought had become foreign to her.

_This is the same as back then!_

"I won't." She whispered.

Her lips were cold and abused by the wind. Her entire upper body was cramped. She pulled again, but her arm had no strength left, and the other was the only thing keeping them both above the ferocious waters. The ghost ship was already half under. A monstrosity of a ship that had sailed on its own for years after she had attacked it was now nothing but fodder for the ocean, falling to join the mermaids and the krakens in the murky depths. How could she simply let go of Dart for that? How could she let him slip away and disappear from her sight, never to be seen again, as she desperately continued to reach her arm out in the vain hope that gravity would reverse and return him?

"I won't let go!" She yelled. "I will _never_ let that happen again!"

Albert's paniced calls barely reached her as a wave slammed the ship, rocking it, making it tremble. It ruined her balance. Her feet slid from under her. A sharp pain erupted in her hip as it hit the edge of her platform. Still, her hand remained tightly closed around his wrist, as if an invisible belt had wound itself around their arms. She fell, crashing into his chest, and automatically she wrapped both arms around him and didn't let go, even as the water weaved cold fingers between them, pulling, tossing, tugging.

_I won't let go._ She thought. _I won't let go._

It became her mantra as they sank and rose according to the ocean, and when Dart fell unconcious, she only tightened her grip. She would not allow him to slip away while he was in her grasp.

**A/N: **It's been a _yeee~ar_ or so since I updated this. I've been chipping occassionally since then. I apologize if the ending seems rushed or something. I couldn't figure out how to end it when I wanted to and my fingers kept adding stuff.


	10. Cat's Cradle

**Title:** Cat's Cradle  
**Character(s):** Meru, Guaraha, Kate  
**A/N:** And here's Meru. Upcoming are Shana, Luanna, and eventually a Lloyd/Wink and a Miranda. I decided to put a structure in this one 'cause it looked a little better. But does it look rushed, I wonder?

**I**

She had been born to be a rule breaker and all around chaos-inducing imp and number one source of exasperation to those dedicated to the Routine Lifestyle of the wingly's hideaway. It was evident by the time she was six. This was the time that she discovered what scissors were and how to apply them. Her parents had, of course, thrown a fit, when the walked into her room one morning to find her entire wardrobe mutilated.

Her excuse was that the normal wingly clothes were far too stifling and ugly and gray.

**II**

She liked to dance more than anything. But the normal wingly dances were formal and stiff. They couldn't move like the flowers and the branches and even the grass did. Well, she couldn't either. Guaraha told her this every time she tripped or slipped or kicked herself in the face. Which was fine with her. Guaraha could complain all he liked. At least, unlike everyone else, he sat and watched her practice everyday. At least, unlike everyone else, he never told her to give it up or stop acting foolish.

Because as far as she was concerned _they_ were the foolish ones.

**III**

This thought was what allowed her to leave the settlement for the expanses of the outside world with very little regret. She packed her bags and, in the dead of the night, left, searching for more than routine and the gray, monotonous confines on the forest. There were no goodbyes. She didn't want to falter. However, when she paused outside of Guaraha's house to look up at his darkened window, she almost ran back home. She put that sudden energy into running in the opposite direction. Toward the gate.

Toward the whole, wide world that would become her new playground

**IV**

Her first week in the outside was what most humans would consider rough. She was always low on food. Her clothing was unsuited for the climate. She had no companions. She had no idea how this world functioned. But she had a smile on her face the whole time. The experience in itself was all the nourishment she needed. The sights, the sounds, the smells; it was all food for thought. Everything was an adventure. From the snow filled plains to the motely towns to the desert she had just hiked through.

Or so she thought until she finally collapsed just outside of Donau, skin torn and stomach empty.

**V**

Kate was a sweet girl. She was young and full of life. And she because of this she became very dedicated very quickly to taking care of Meru, who, despite being older, was more of a child than herself. She could be seen dancing around town on a daily basis. The flowers seemed to sway in tune with her. Kate gave her ribbons. She had never seen someone smile that brightly at such a simple gift before. Meru put them on immediately and became a sort of staple in the town. A dancer of great beauty, but questionable grace.

Whether her audience was admiring her body or waiting for her inevitable trip was up for debate.

**VI**

When the Dragoons came, all proud and determined and full of will, she felt drawn to them instantly. When she found out they were off to rescue the fiance of one of her dear friends, she pounced. It was an adventure waiting to happen, and it was about time she got moving again.

But really, it just felt like destiny.


	11. Like a Diamond

**Title: **Like a Diamon  
**Character(s):** Shana, Rose, Dart  
**A/N:** I feel like I am on a roll. My second update in less than a week. With two other one-shots half finished. Other ideas lined up. So here is some Shana angst. I actually liked her well enough, so I felt I should display that. Through angst. Because that's what I'm good at.

She didn't like to think of herself as a weak person. Surely, despite not quite having the physical prowess as Rose, or even Meru, she could still consider herself a reasonably strong woman. She had her moments of self-doubt. Persistant thoughts that would hound her into the night and hinder her sleep. However, she knew her way around with a bow. She knew how to heal. She knew how to not cry and give up when something hurt.

So why was she always holding everyone back?

Why was everyone always pausing in their journey, an admittedly serious and important one, over a need to rescue her in some fashion? To dote on her in some manner?

Did this make her weak? Did this make her selfish? She wanted to stay by Dart no matter what.

But it just seemed like _no matter what_ included not only personal sacrifices, but sacrifices on the parts of everyone in the group. Did that make her a weak link? And if so, why would she be chosen to be a dragoon? Why would everyone continue to support her without hesitation, when she should, as the healer, be the one doing all of the supporting?

Gloved hands curled on the balcony as the stars glittered above her. Behind her she heard footsteps. It was nothing to be concerned with, there was a party nearby after all. So she ignored them, hardly in the proper mood to enjoy the festivities. Until they came closer and she saw a familiar navy bodice enter her vision to the left.

Rose turned and pressed her back against the railing, tilting her head to view the heavens. Inky black hair spilled over her pauldrons, highlighted by the leer of a shining moon. Shana admired the smoothness of her pale face and the grace of her stoic features and wondered what it would take to become a woman like this. As if reading that thought, Rose turned her head to regard her now elegantly dressed companion. Shana dropped her gaze, feeling mildly chastised.

She had always been satisfied with herself growing up. Was this really the time for self-pity? They had more important things to worry about and, in addition, she was supposed to be enjoying herself at a party. One thrown just for them. She felt guilty thinking of all the work put into this. A feast and dancing. All in the castle itself. But here she was.

"Have you seen Dart yet?" Rose's soft voice broke the silence.

Startled Shana stumbled slightly on her words. "N-no." She looked away again.

"..."

A quick glance showed Rose to have a faint frown on her face. A subtle sign of displeasure. At what?

"Rose?"

The dark eyed woman looked back to her. "You should enjoy this downtime. We will be back on the road shortly." The frown deepened. "It would be costly if you faltered since you are... necessary."

There was an awkwardness in the other woman's voice that didn't quite suit her, and which stunned Shana to silence until Rose had already reentered the building. She spun to question her, ask her what she meant by that, but found that she was busy, stopped before a maid with a serious look on her face. So she fell back and leaned over the balcony again, looking down at the houses, looking up at the sky. She was wringing her hands, she realized, and quickly stopped, lest she wrinkle the garments that had been loaned to her.

Necessary.

What could someone like Rose mean by _necessary_? She closed her eyes against the confusion and tried not to think. To relax. To not _falter_ so that she would not, once again, be _costly_. She vaguely registered low voices in the corridor as she lost herself in many not-thoughts. Footsteps approached her again, heavier than Rose's. She recognized them. She reluctantly turned.

Dart's breath caught in his throat as he took her in and she wondered why.

"You look beautiful..." He trailed off, seemingly unsure of himself.

She smiled weakly and gestured at the delicate gown she had been slipped into by Libria. "Thank you. But... it's all thanks to this dress."

"That's not true." He protested, stepping forward.

A flicker from above called her eyes to the sky. A falling star dove towards some distant ground and she couldn't help but exclaim over it, her mind a jumbled mess of wishes for the future. To stay with Dart. To become stronger. To love and be loved. For everyone to live on and find their own happiness after everything was settled. One silk covered hand was brought to her breast as she turned to Dart, feeling elated, terrified, and everything in-between.

But then his hand was on her cheek and his face was tilted down and... and... his lips were hardly smooth or soft. Chapped and rough, rather, from his many years of training and travelling through the wilderness. But it was just like him. And her baby-soft face and gentle hands and neediness was just like her. Necessary. Because that was just... what... it was.


	12. Smoke

**Title:** Smoke  
**Character(s):** Luanna, Luanna's Mother, Black Monster, Guards, Queen Theresa, Miranda  
**Summary:** The burning of Neet brings Luanne to the Crystal Palace.  
**A/N:** Been a few chapters since I had a side character in. I think this chapter is my longest to date, being over 3,000. Which is crazy for me, btw. Anyhow, I hate making endings corny-sappy so I just ended on her getting her appetite back, figuring it was profound enough, all things considered. I thought Luanna's power was interesting, and also wanted practice with Miranda for a future chapter so I did this. I wonder if I pulled them off...

_The moon glared red and ominous, foretelling destruction. Neet was burning. Crimson, black, and orange._

Luanna stumbled along behind her mother, gasping and tightly clutching the woman's clammy hand. Her vision was blurred badly by the smoke, but the smell of fire and the raging orange lights were unmistakable. The violent crackle of heat pierced her ears and her heart felt like it was trying to flee her chest. The contrasting chill of her mother's skin was no less terrifying. Creaks, thuds, and screams echoed behind the pair as they ducked into their house and sought refuge in the stone basement.

"Stay down." Her mothered ordered.

Obediently the child collapsed on the floor, squeezing into the corner. Her eyes were too dry to release any tears and her sight was still unfocused.

"It's dangerous here too." Her mother told her. "But we cannot run fast enough to escape the village." She crawled to her daughter and curled around the small, trembling body. "I love you." She murmured.

Luanna whimpered and heaved, the noises mere parodies of the sobs she didn't have the energy to muster. Her mother held her tighter, and she keened at the sound of another gurgling shriek, muffled, but still audible even underground. The breath of whispered prayers reached her ears.

"Mom!" She gasped. "Mom, w-why?"

Her mother shook her head, she could feel it against her shoulder. She still couldn't see. She couldn't see anything but black blurs. She couldn't hear anything but pain and terror and her own thundering heartbeat. She couldn't _feel_ anything but the frustrating itching of her eyes and skin, her mother's harsh breathing against her neck, and the shaking arms circling her like a clamp.

"_Mom_," She tried again. "_Why_?"

"Shh... shhhh... Luanna!"

"I... I can't see. Mom, I'm scared!" Luanna twisted in her mother's grip. "I _can't see!_"

The both gasped as an explosion went off outside. It was close. Quite possibly tearing at the modest garden they had managed to nurture in the chilly air of the town. Or perhaps the rocky half-walls marking their property. Maybe even the marble angel figurines that were supposed to be keeping watch. Her father had worked hard on those. There was another crash and bang and the foundations shook. Luanna felt her mother's hand go down on her mouth, cutting off a budding scream. The door to the basement bowed suddenly and with a deafening _crack_ it was blasted inward. It splintered on its tumble down the stairs and the sound of each violent impact resounded around the small enclosure. There was a brief moment of tense silence after the door hit the bottom, and then the shadow moved. Slowly, deliberately, and with steps that clicked ominously on each stair.

"Don't come!" Her mother yelled. "Don't come here!" Her voice was hoarse and near hysterical.

The silhouette paid her pleading no heed as it approached, aggressively kicking debris from its path.

"Where is Princess Louvia? Where did you hide the Moon Child?" It demanded.

Its voice was distorted. Androgynous. Luanna risked peeking, but was unable to make out more than empty black eyes and black hair and a writhing black aura that made her feel small and scared.

"We don't know!" She heard her mother moan. "What kind of spitefulness do you have toward our village!"

Even in the lack of light those eyes glittered dangerously. "You want to die with your daughter?" The being asked.

Luanna's body trembled violently at the prompt and the room was flooded with navy hued light. She could just make out the arm of the demon, raised and ready to blast them _just like everyone else_ that was screaming outside and she keened again.

"Mom, I'm scared." Her fingers curled around her mother's sides, digging painfully into her ribs.

Her mother hissed and shielded her child further with her body. "Princess Louvia left for the sea. This must be enough to satisfy you! Now leave this village!" Her voice wavered with her demand, but she did not avert her eyes from the Black Monster that had razed her home.

There was a scraping as the beast's boots turned roughly on the floor. Its voice was cold with the threat of violence.

"The chance to eliminate the Moon Child comes only once every 108 years." It told them. "It's the time of birth when the moon glows with the color of blood." Its steps were echoing again, one for every two beats of their hearts, it seemed like.

And Luanna, through her haze of fear and confusion, remembered that the moon had been haunting that night before it all started. The color of roses in the darkness. The monster continued.

"The newly born Moon Child has a magic power." It spat. "That magic power changes everyone around into an _evangelist_ for the _God_, a servant to help prepare for the descending of the _God_."

There was a frightening snarl and a sudden rush of heat. Luanna gasped as her mother's body shuddered with an ear splitting shriek and went still. Something warm, wet, and sticky poured over her hands. Her breathing quickened even more, coming out like the pants of a rabbit before a wolf.

"My objectives will not be satisfied until I kill every single person who was present as the Moon Child passed through."

The world went white for a moment, and then darkness took over. Black power, flooding the basement and licking the walls, leaving scorched imprints and vaporizing dust and cobwebs in an instant. The debris that the creature had kicked caught alight and Luanna huddled closer to her unmoving mother.

"Mom...? Answer me...? It's hot! It's burning. Mom... Mom..."

Small hands reached a delicate neck and fingers searched desperately for something that was not there.

"Mom..."

Shelves splintered and fell and the room got hotter. Her head got heavier.

"Why?"

And amidst the fire, shielded by her mother's corpse, she fell unconscious.

**:-:-:**

_Luanna woke to the brabble of hustling men and women, a squealing cart, and the neighing of horses. She opened her eyes to nothing._

A cool hand brushed her brow, smoothing aside stray pieces of hair that had itched and bothered her, but that she had been unable to muster the energy to move on her own. This hand, a woman's hand, continued to her cheek, rubbing gently. It felt rough, but the hand had been soft on her forehead, so Luanna knew that it was her own face that was dry and coarse. It had always been chapped before-living in Neet with the brittle cold and fierce winds typical of the place had given her that-but never before had her skin felt so _dead_. The thought made her whimper in protest as her mind fought to push aside the sudden flashes of memory. Black, crimson, and orange.

"Are you awake now, little one?" The woman's voice was warm, soothing. "Will you open your eyes for me?"

Luanna gave a tiny shake of the head. "Dark." She mumbled.

"It is daytime now, child." She was told.

"Still dark." Luanna responded. "Always dark."

Painful too, she thought. When she opened her eyes it was painful. She could see nothing but hurt. It was black. All black everywhere she looked. But the inside of her head was worse. Inside of her head there were lights so bright that she felt her brain was splitting down the center. No... She didn't want to open her eyes. Not even for the kind voiced woman and her soft, sweet hands. Hands unlike her mother, who had worked hard for a living in their cold and humble town.

"Mom." She whispered.

It was cold, it was hot, it was sticky, and it was... it was... dry. So dry that her eyes had stung but refused to water. So hot that it felt as thought her tears were being evaporated before they had the chance to fall, even thought it _hurt_ and the sounds of wood cracking and stone sliding were scaring her witless.

"Calm down, child."

She was gathered into a pair of arms. Arms that were cool even through the layers of cloth that covered them. Luanna clutched at the fabric, wondering at it even as she shook and fiercely tried not to _think_. Because her thoughts were all of that horrible blackness and suffocating heat. On smoke and heaving lungs. On sticky red fluids and terrified screams.

The hands stroked her back and she relaxed.

"You're safe now, child."

_"My objectives will not be satisfied until I kill every single person who was present as the Moon Child passed through."_

She whimpered and burrowed further.

There was no certainty of that.

**:-:-:**

"_Straighten up. Why are you hunching over all the time! I don't care if you're blind or not, stop acting like a wuss!"_

Miranda was terrifying. It was a fright on a different scale than the impressions she got from her night terrors. The gruff older girl had taken to stalking her around the palace and barking at her to show some semblance of confidence. She was always saying that a child of the queen needed to be stronger than the meek little thing that Luanna was.

But Luanna was still adjusting to being a queen's child at all. Because as motherly as Queen Theresa was... her hands were too soft and her voice was too regal. This was not her mother. Her mother was…

_Dark eyed, desperate, bloody, and_

"HEY!"

Luanna cried out as a fist came down on her head. She heard Miranda growl and felt the other girl's fingers curl tightly around her upper arm. Luanna stumbled as she was pulled in an unknown direction. Her feet felt unsteady and she had to concentrate almost fully on just putting one in front of the other. All she had to go by was the hand and the bobbing silver-white light. She saw it every time she looked toward her 'sister'. A glowing orb suspending in a black-violet miasma. She saw something similar when looking to other people, with different colors of light and cloud.

It felt wrong. Like she was breeching some line she had no right to cross.

"… and you haven't even brushed your hair yet!"

"Ah!" She started as she was shoved into a chair.

"Stay there! I'll get a brush." Miranda stalked off, grumbling.

Luanna watched the light grow distant and remained seated, waiting. Miranda would be back with a brush and comb and take care of her hair like she did often. Sometimes Luanna remembered to bother, and when she did the silver-white girl would scoff and tell her that she did well enough. Miranda always gave rough praise when she did something on her own…

What was the use of beauty when she could no longer appreciate it?

"You're moping again. Stop that."

Her hair was tugged and raked by uncharacteristically gentle fingers as Miranda parted and unknotted what she remembered to be dark locks. Luanna sighed.

"What's wrong?"

Luanna shrugged and said nothing.

"You can't be mute the whole time that you're here."

What was the point of conversation if she could no longer face—she yelped as her hair was suddenly pulled tightly and held like so.

"Whatever you're thinking is probably dark and not doing you any good." Miranda stated coolly. "I'm going to make you pretty and we're going to eat dinner together. You, me, and Her Majesty. You don't have to talk, yet, but she's worried about you. So show up every now and again. How long has it been since you ate a proper meal? Not just a carrot or slice of bread!"

Luanna hunched in on herself as close as she could without aggravating the death grip on her tresses. Her stomach felt like it was always full. How could she possibly eat? She felt an impatient tug and shrugged helplessly.

"Luanna!"

"… Was it yesterday? Or last week? … It's always dark so I don't know… what day it is."

Miranda sighed explosively. "Come to dinner." She demanded. "Please." She tacked on, softer, pleading.

Luanna forced herself to relax and nod hesitantly and her hair was released. Miranda continued her ministrations in silence.

**:-:-:**

"_I can see… souls. I can see… pain."_

Luanna was crying. Even through her tears she found a fraction of thought dedicated to marveling at this fact, despite the intense feelings of despair that were reaching through her throat to claw at her heart. She had not managed to cry for her mother three months ago when the fire had burned away her vision. She had assumed that her tears had been incinerated as well. But they weren't… and she was sitting in the alcove behind a suit of armor, face wet, legs cramped, and wishing that if she had to be blind, then that the blindness would be complete.

The lights hurt to look at.

The malevolent radiance of Her Majesty's guest made her feel like her head was splitting. There was a sickly cloud embracing the pale yellow orb. It seared with disease and unpleasantness. No amount of coaxing could bring her to remain in his presence for an extended time, and she had to be dragged to her formal introduction to the man.

"Luanna?"

Miranda's footfalls quieted her sobs and Luanna silenced herself as much as she was able, hoping that she had yet to be spotted. Her eyes were squeezed shut, so she did not see the silver-white come to a stop before the suit and dip closer to the ground.

"Luanna?" The voice that was usually so forceful was much less aggressive. "What's the matter, Luanna?"

Miranda gently pulled her out from her hiding place and into a standing position. Luanna allowed it. Struggling would knock the iron armor and make noise that would draw even more attention to her.

And she didn't want to chance being anywhere near that… man.

Miranda sighed and guided her to her own bedroom, saying nothing and avoiding all the main hallways. Aside from their quiet steps, the silence was only periodically broken by Luanna's sniffles. Miranda waited until they were behind a closed door before speaking. She did so as she nudged Luanna to the bed.

"You've been having fits every since Her Majesty's guest arrived." Miranda began.

Luanna felt the mattress dip and tilted her head toward the other girl.

"She's worried."

"Sorry." Luanna whispered.

Miranda leaned into her. "I know he seems like a bit of a sleazebag, but you've been crying in corners all week. You know him or something?"

Luanna shook her head. "He's bad." She said.

Her voice was so quiet that Miranda had to strain to hear it. "Bad?"

Abruptly Luanna's tears returned and she wailed. "He's _bad_. I can _see it_. I-I can see his _soul_!"

His soul. Luanna curled into Miranda's soft blankets and cried. The lights she had seen since the day her world turned dark, they were all souls. This realization came suddenly and unexpectedly and she didn't understand exactly what prompted it, but they were all definitely _souls_.

And Miranda's was so Light and benevolent even with the angry cloud that clutched it.

"_Soul_? Luanna? Are you—can you really?"

Miranda sounded neither believing nor doubtful. Her tone was factual, as if her belief would be based entirely on how confidently Luanna responded to the question. So she forced herself to stop sobbing for just a moment and composed herself enough to reply.

"Yes!"

And then she started wailing again.

Two days later Miranda found her in her room, waiting with a brush in her lap. She took the item without a word and began brushing. Luanna made no move to speak.

"I told Her Majesty." Miranda started. "And I'm not going to apologize for it. She had that man investigated, and I heard he was found to be into some shady things."

Luanna started wringing her hands. "I don't want to know." She told Miranda.

She heard the rustle of cloth that suggested that the other had shrugged.

"I'm just telling you… that you were right about that."

They fell quiet for a moment as Miranda arranged her hair and toyed with it in several styles before simply pulling it into a low, loose tail at the nape of her neck.

"Can you see everyone's?" Miranda asked her.

Luanna turned slightly to her. "Yours is silver white." She said.

"My elemental attribute." Miranda remarked.

"It's covered in a cloud of angry darkness." No answer. "Miranda?"

A warm hand landed on her head. "I was alone… for a long time."

Luanna watched that smoky rage curl restlessly around Miranda's Light as the confession. She placed her own hand on top of Miranda's and it receded slightly. She heard a sigh.

"That's why I wanted you to hurry and get better here. I was here for awhile before I stopped wanting to attack everything that I thought would make me go back. Everything will be alright here… so you can stop crying and hiding."

"Oh…?"

Luanna touched her cheek. It was wet.

"I am… aren't I?"

"It hurts… but everyone is hurt. And it only hurts more if you hurt alone so…" Miranda trailed out with an uncomfortable mumble. "You're not alone here!" She burst. "That's what I wanted to let you know, but you're so stubborn and wouldn't get the hint."

She felt Miranda's other hand lightly cuff her head.

"Everything's fine again and that man is gone so come to dinner."

A tiny smile worked its way onto Luanna's face. "Please help me so I don't fall down the stairs again."

Miranda laughed and Luanna watched the darkness in her shrink just a little more with the action. The sight made her wonder how her own soul looked, but no matter how she tried she could not see it. She stood as her hand was grabbed and carefully followed after Miranda, feeling hungrier than she had in months.


End file.
